


A New Melody

by afewreelthoughts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Attempted Seduction, M/M, erotic harp playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewreelthoughts/pseuds/afewreelthoughts
Summary: When they had finished eating, the king took up his harp and began to play. Jon found himself watching the way his fingers darted over the instrument and how the strings vibrated for a second when he let them go.





	A New Melody

**Author's Note:**

> written for Wildling Weekend over at asoiafrarepairs. 
> 
> I own nothing and make no money from this. Everything belongs to G.R.R.M.

Every night the wildling king played and sang, for Dalla and Val and Jarl and anyone else who had been invited to their tent. And every night the music drifted over where Jon lay next to Ygritte, and as he drifted to sleep, he thought himself south of the Wall once again, listening to bards play in the halls of Winterfell with Robb and Arya and his father.

Jon was invited to take supper with Mance the following night, and he knew it wasn’t out of goodwill. They were keeping him close, keeping watch over his loyalties. When they had finished eating, the king took up his harp and began to play. Jon found himself watching the way his fingers darted over the instrument and how the strings vibrated for a second when he let them go.

Val and Jarl huddled close together, and Dalla reclined next to them, one hand resting on her round belly. Jon followed their lead and lay back against the furs,  letting the music take him far away.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he next looked up, Mance was playing quietly, and they were alone.

Jon stood and brushed himself off.

“Eager to leave?” Mance said.

“Ygritte must be missing me,” said Jon.

“Thank you for joining us tonight.” He set his harp to the side.

“How you do it?” Jon asked. “Is it just which string you pull or is it more than that?”

“No one ever taught you?”

“No.”

It was quiet for a long moment before Mance Rayder smiled and said, “Come. Let me show you.”

Jon sat next to Mance on the furs and picked up the harp, gingerly. 

“It’s not made of glass,” said Mance, and he guided Jon’s arms to either side of the instrument. He framed Jon’s body with his own and arranged Jon’s fingers on the strings, one by one. Jon let himself be moved.

“Pluck them back lightly,” Mance said, his breath warm on Jon’s neck.

A shiver ran down Jon’s spine as he let go of the strings. They sounded sharp and heavy. When Mance played, it sounded like a whisper on the wind. Jon set his fingers on the same strings and tried again, and again…

He fingertips began to sting and he shook the pain away before trying once more.

Mance moved closer to him. Jon could feel his warmth beneath the furs they both wore.

Jon never had a music lesson before, but he was sure they involved a less touching. At the same time, he did not want to read desire where there was none.  He was no Robb, turning girls’ heads everywhere; and a king who could have who he liked would not waste his time with a former crow like Jon, would he?

Mance took Jon’s hand in his own and gently rubbed his fingers. “They callus if you practice enough, just like when you use a sword for the first time,” he said. His other hand rested on Jon’s leg. Jon pressed back against him. He was practically sitting in Mance Rayder’s lap, and could feel him stirring beneath his furs. It was one thing to allow Ygritte to share his furs at night, but this…

Jon was seized by the image of plucking the strings with his burning fingertips as Mance moved deep inside him.

“I can’t,” he said without thinking and snatched his hand away.

The king smiled. “You crows now take vows against playing music?”

“Ye-es,” Jon said, half afraid that he had just revealed his true allegiance, and half hoping that Mance would see beyond his bravado and push him down against the furs.

Mance moved away, and Jon felt suddenly cold. He stood up, brushed himself off and bowed his head, muttering, “Goodnight.”

“Jon?” Mance said.

"Yes?”

"I know how hard it is to truly believe that you’re a free man. It’s not something you can banish overnight.”

Jon nodded.

"If you ever change your mind, I’ll be here.” He lifted his harp and again began to play.

When Jon left the tent, the cold night air closed around him, and he shivered like one of those, as though his body wanted to sing. 


End file.
